


He's Not Proud of Himself

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:18:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”Niall’s cut off with another hit. ‘A little slut like you? Of course you want it,’ he says, and Niall’s shaking even harder because he is not a slut, he is not. He didn’t chose this, he doesn’t want this, he isn’t a whore or easy or anything else. Or… he would believe that if his job and the clothes he was currently wearing (or more like the clothes he wasn’t currently wearing) didn’t say otherwise."<br/>AU in which Niall is a stripper -not by choice- who gets more than he bargained for, and Zayn is the one who finds him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Not Proud of Himself

He's not proud of himself.

Not in the slightest, actually he hates it here. He hates how people look at him, and he hates how hot and sweaty it is. He doesn't like how flushed and splotchy his cheeks get after ten minutes of working the floor, let alone working the pole, and he doesn't like how his boss gets on him for that. Mostly, however, Niall just gets mad because thongs are fucking _uncomfortable_ , and he's sick of them riding up constantly while he's just trying to do his job.

The only problem is that Niall never finished secondary school, and he needs a job _somewhere_ , and male strip clubs seem to be the only place hiring pretty blonde dropouts.

He is naturally unhappy working where he does, the problem partially being that he had never planned on this gig lasting so long and partially being that all of his co-workers and customers didn't understand the meaning of personal space.

Plus, it's disgusting. The first few nights Niall worked as a stripper, he went home crying because he was so scared of all the eyes that had been raking him up and down. He feels dumb about it now, especially because he still occasionally goes to bed sobbing, but Niall's the one who put himself into this, he knew what the job meant before he took it, so he really just needed to deal with it.

It's just that Niall wasn't meant for this business. He's not confident or sexy enough. (But then again, who is?)

He wants out. He wants to go home. He wants his mam. He wants a nine to five job and a cubical, or maybe an apron and a nametag at Starbucks, or maybe just a dorm room and morning classes, but Niall can't have any of that. Not now that he's a filthy whore or even before when he was just little Niall trying to pass his biology exams.

So Niall goes to bed crying, wondering if this is his fault or his circumstances' fault and praying for it to be the latter because Niall really couldn't be any guiltier.

* * *

"Hey, baby, why you rushing off so fast? Stay for a minute," an incredibly large, alcoholic-type man says, fingers looping under the edge of the bottom-showing skirt Niall is wearing as he tries to walk off with his tray after serving a group their drinks.

"Anything for a handsome bunch like you," he says to the table of muscular, big, beer-gutted men, and shit, they just _look_ like your Class A perverts with their bandanas and creepy facial hair. The man with now his whole hand on his bare hip pulls him into his lap, and Niall giggles.

He doesn't even feel it, really. He's so numb at this point. He just laughs like a ditz and consoles himself with the fact that at least he'll probably get a pretty big tip later. Niall is only supposed to be serving drinks. Lap sitting isn't in his contract (there are a lot of things Niall has made a point not to have in his contract), but he is supposed to keep customers happy, and this isn't the first time Niall has been manhandled like this. Not even close.

"Babe, why don't you give us a bit of a show," the man says, breath hot in his ear and hand lowering to cup Niall's ass. He doesn't even shudder.

"Whatever you'd like," Niall says, climbing up onto the table after getting himself a rather hard squeeze and he tries to ignore how his skirt lowers to expose his hip as the man's hands get caught in it. There's a poll running through every table in the strip club, and while Niall's supposed to be just a server tonight, dancing is in fact in his job description.

Niall starts spinning, legs coiling and uncoiling as faces whirl by, and he can't feel the eyes as much when he's performing like this. He tries to pay attention to not letting his heels get in the way of his dancing instead of the feel of fivers getting slipped into places Niall would rather not name.

Niall unravels himself the second there's a pause in the music.

"Now who needs a refill?"

* * *

It's not unusual that there's people waiting outside or coming into the back for Niall. He blames it on the fact that he looks like a porcelain doll –or at least that's what his co-workers tell him- and how he doesn't do lap jobs. People always want what they can't have.

Usually, Niall just passes them off to someone willing, but that only happens when Niall's confronted in the changing room or at the dancers' door out back. Niall can't do that when he's followed. He's never been followed.

He feels the guy's eyes before he sees him, as is usually the case. Niall always feels their eyes; he always knows when they're watching.

As he turns the corner he catches a glimpse of the guy, and he recognises him as the ham hog in the front row who had been practically salivating while watching him all night. A few strippers hadn't made it in that evening –whether they were sick, missing, or drowning in their own vomit, Niall hadn't a clue- and he had to take up three extra slots on the main stage. His limbs were exhausted, and he'd unfortunately caught quite a few more stares than he was used to.

The man following him had definitely been the worst of them all. He was well-over three hundred pounds, and Niall could tell he was lonely. Again, Niall hadn't been followed before, and maybe he had needed to drop out of is fifth year, but he wasn't stupid. Even he knew that lonely stalkers were the worst of them all.

He thinks that he can out run him, is the thing. He quickens his pace, knowing it must be hard for the guy trailing him to move very fast, and that's when he starts hearing him calling for him. "Hey! Hey, you! Blondie!" the man calls, using his stripper name, and Niall doesn't _need_ this right now. He has enough to deal with.

He speeds up a little more, thinking he's fine, but all of a sudden, there's a hand on his arm, and Niall shrieks a little bit as the guy flips him around. Instantly there is a hand over his mouth, muffling him to near silence and Niall's shaking, terrified because there's no way this is going to go well.

The man drags him behind one of the shambled flat complexes ( _Niall's_ shambled flat complex; he had been so close to making it home) and throws him to the ground. "Please, please, take my money or something, take anything, just let me go, just let me-"

"Shut up," The man hisses, smacking his face and cutting him off. Niall can't even move; the heavy man is so _on top of him_ , plastering his legs, arms and torso to the pavement. "You will be quiet, or this will be a whole lot worse," he promises. "You do as I tell you, alright?"

"But I don't want-"

Niall's cut off with another hit. "A little slut like you? Of course you want it," he says, and Niall's shaking even harder because he is not a slut, he is _not_. He didn't chose this, he doesn't want this, he isn't a whore or easy or anything else. Or… he would believe that if his job and the clothes he was currently wearing (or more like the clothes he _wasn't_ currently wearing) didn't say otherwise.

Chubby fingers fumble first at their own jeans and then at Niall's, and he's exposed, but Niall has his eyes closed. There are hands on him, and he hates it. He hates it so much; Niall doesn't _want this._

"Alright, now suck," his attacker demands, and Niall whimpers. Strong hands force his head forward until he's got his mouth in a place he doesn't want it, and tears rush down his cheeks. "Suck or else it'll hurt more," the man says, and Niall knows enough about proper lubrication to know that it's going to fucking hurt _anyway_ , but he's too scared not to listen.

This is horrible, and disgusting, and he hates how the man keeps groaning in pleasure because _this isn't fun at all_ , and Niall wants to go home. He wants to go _home_. But he's a slut, and he wants this, and this is what people like him are supposed to do.

He's not sure if he's choking on tears or the elongating dick in his mouth.

It only goes downhill from there. Niall is gagging as things are forced upon him, and the second it seems to let up, his pants are being ripped down and he remembers that there's a part two to this thing. He instantly starts crying harder. "Please let me go. Please, I didn't do anything. Please, please, please don't hurt me, just let me go _home,_ " he cries, but maybe his attacker is deaf because even though Niall is unprepared and has never been stretched, he's being crammed into, and he screams.

"Shut _up_ ," the man demands, covering his mouth with his think hand and gasping a little as he moves around in Niall. Oh gosh, this is too much, he thinks he's dying. He just wants to be let go of, he wants to go home, he always wants to go home.

Niall doesn't even notice when the man is gone. He wakes up in the alley with tears dried on his cheeks before the sun rises and can't find it in himself to get up. He goes back to sleep after tugging up his tiny denim shorts and tightening his arms around his torso in an attempt to get warm, still crying.

* * *

Zayn Malik is a lot of things but helpful isn't one of them. He doesn't do nice; he doesn't do generous. Zayn does "give me" and "bugger off".

Except, Zayn isn't heartless. Zayn doesn't walk home and see shivering eighteen-year-olds with bruises on their wrists and blood soaking through the seat of their pants and not stop to help. How could anyone?

Maybe Zayn should be a little less caring because it's obvious by the glitter on the boy's cheeks and the length of his shorts what he probably works as. The smell of beer, sweat, and cigarettes is rolling off this kid, but that's just the thing. He's a kid. Zayn's not much more than a kid himself, but leaving this little guy in the gutter still seemed wrong, and if Liam found out, he'd probably either yell at him or cry, and Zayn's just not in the mood.

He checks the boy's pulse and calls an ambulance. Thank goodness for free healthcare. The kid doesn't stir, but Zayn still keeps watch over him as he waits for the paramedics to arrive. The more he looks at the blonde, the worse he feels about the situation, and Zayn doesn't ever feel bad about anything. Not when Harry's cat died, not when Louis's mum died, not when Liam lost his job… it's hard to phase Zayn, but his poor boy looks like he should still be at home with his mum and going to school every day.

He's not the girl who goes into her business because she has daddy issues and he's not the guy who was too lazy for Uni. He's a kid who just didn't have another option.

There's a flurry of flashing lights, siren wails, and rushing paramedics, and someone asks Zayn if he'd like to come along while they load the bleeding boy into the back of an ambulance. Zayn bites his lip and shrugs. He didn't have anything to do anyway.

"Sure."

* * *

Niall wakes up to the sound of himself vomiting, and that's definitely a new one. He may have been surrounded by it, but he's never done drugs, and he's always been the kind of guy who handled his liquor. He ends up honking all over the white tiled floor and is startled by how comfy the asphalt was, until he realises that he's _not_ in an alley, he's on a mattress in a bed, and… oh. He's in the hospital.

That's actually okay all things considered, but what is _not_ okay is the guy sitting in the chair by his bedside.

"Hey, I'm Zayn," the other boy says nonchalantly as Niall looks over. What the hell?

"I'm Blondie," he answers, and 'Zayn' arches an eyebrow like he's asking if he's sure about that. He sighs. "Actually, don't call me that. I'm Niall. I'm… I'm Niall," he repeats, not sure if he was going to say something else or not. Zayn hums.

"Whoever it was fucked you up pretty badly, Niall. You want some pain meds?" he asked, and tears sprocket into Niall's eyes.

"No. No, I wanna go home," he says, trying to keep from crying. He doesn't know who Zayn is. He wants him to leave; he doesn't know who he is. Is he a doctor? Why is he here? He can't be a doctor, he's dressed like a homeless coffee-addict and he's cursing. He doesn't know who Zayn is; Niall wants to go home. "Who are you?" he asks, and Zayn frowns.

"I'm Zayn, remember?" he asks, and Niall shakes his head.

"No, no," he says, voice tight as he struggles to keep from crying. "No, who _are_ you. Why are you here? I don't… please don't look at me," he begs, and Zayn averts his eyes to his nails. Whether he really is examining them or doing it for Niall's sake is hard to tell.

"I found you in the back alley. You were bleeding out your… well, you know," he answered. "You got stitches down there, by the way. Like… a million of them. Well, not a million, but quite a few. And you don't have an emergency contact in your phone, so I'm going to stick around and take you home, okay? This sounds a bit gross, but they wanna give you a stool softener and make you stick around until you shit just to make sure everything's okay down there," he says, and Niall can't help but let a few tears slip down his cheeks.

"This sucks," he sobs, and Zayn is looking at him as if he's a ticking time bomb, which to be fair, Niall totally is. He's one step from the edge. "I want to go home," he cries, and sweeps uselessly at his eyes, completely overwhelmed and embarrassed.

"They're not going to let you leave just yet," Zayn says apologetically. "Do you want me to call your mum or something? I can call home for you. Maybe your family can come get you," he offers, but the weak tone to his voice proves that they _both_ know Niall doesn't have any family. Niall doesn't say anything, and he doesn't need to. He just cries a little harder, and Zayn clears his throat. "Right, well… well, I don't think you should be wanting to go home if there's no one there for you. Right here is best to make sure you're not hurt or sad," he explains, and Niall is weeping openly at this point.

"But I _am_ hurt and sad," he argued, wiping the sheets of tears falling down his face off on his arm. "And 'sides, that's not what I meant. I meant… I meant home with my mam," he says, and Zayn leans forward in his chair, making Niall feel like there's eyes on him when there's not.

"So you do have a mum?" he asks, and Niall just cries harder so Zayn shuts up for awhile, letting him get it all out of his system. Niall has a lot of things to cry over and he seems to be taking them all on at once. Zayn leaves the room and gets a nurse to clean up his vomit. She asks Zayn if he would agree to let him be sedated, but Zayn says he deserves a good cry, so Niall takes advantage of the occasion.

He cries until his doctor comes in and tells him all the same things Zayn did and makes him take some medicine, writing him out a prescription so hopefully it won't tear Niall all up again next time he takes a shit, and he doesn't want to live anymore. This is so embarrassing and awkward, and they ask to give him a rape kit. Niall is still dirty and unclean, and he just wants a long, hot shower, or, like… eight of them. It's terrifying as they swipe him for DNA from the guy who wrecked him like this.

Oddly enough, Zayn doesn't leave, and Niall doesn't want him to.

* * *

The time comes for Niall to go home, and Zayn decides that there's no way he's letting this kid go back to living on his own. "Niall, I'm going to take you to your flat, and we can grab some things, okay? But I can't let you stay there, all right? Doctor's orders," he says, and Niall sighs and ask the same thing he's been asking for days.

"Who _are_ you?"

"I'm Zayn," Zayn says with a smile, and he's only teasing. It manages to put a tiny smile on Niall's face, which Zayn decides is pretty good for a teenage rape victim less than forty-eight hours after the attack. He relents though as Niall stares at him expectantly. "Look, man, I don't know… I just feel responsible now, okay? Let me be a good guy, it's not often I wanna be," he promised, and it's all true.

Maybe Zayn would be more generous if he had anything to be generous with, but Zayn's just a tattoo artist. He works in a crap shop and only gets to work on dumb gang logos or stupid phrases with loopy handwriting all day, and he gets paid on commission. Zayn has no money, food, or time to his name. It's just that he's broke, and he's got three friends he has to take care of from time to time, and they're enough to worry about.

And Zayn does feel responsible. He just… he sat in a hospital room for a day and a half with this kid. Blondie first, Niall second. He kinda wants to change that. He kinda wants to get Niall back on the track he's supposed to be on, or maybe get him out of this hellhole at the very least. Just make things better.

It's a weird concept for Zayn of all people, but he's not one to analyse himself. He'd be up all night thinking about it, and he already doesn't get enough sleep.

"Do I have to sleep on the couch?" Niall asked after a moment, and Zayn cracks a smile.

"It's a pull-out," he promises. "I mean… it's a mattress at least. And my neighbour, Liam, already has it set up for you with sheets and everything, yeah? So you can't say no. Not when Liam has already gone to so much trouble," he says, and Niall's grinning a little bit, but he still looks incredibly sad.

"I don't even know Liam," Niall argued, and Zayn claps him on the shoulder, ignoring the way the younger boy flinches.

"Just another reason for you to stay. Everyone should know Liam," he smiles, and Niall relents.

"Okay. Okay, but just for the night! And I'll pay you back or something. And just for the night," Niall reinstates, and Zayn feels lucky he's managed to get him to stay for any amount of time at all.

* * *

It's longer than one night.

* * *

The first time Niall meets the boys is about a week after he comes home from the hospital. Louis isn't one to be kept away, especially when there are mysterious strippers involved, and it was really only a matter of time before the three of them dug their noses into Zayn and Niall's business.

There's a loud rapping on the door, followed by a few slow steady knocks, and then some maybe-we-should-leave-this-guy-be-for-a-little-longers, and that's how Zayn knows that it's Louis, Harry, and Liam. He shouts to Niall who is busy eating him out of house and home, "We've got company!" and Niall makes a disgruntled but accepting sound as he swallows down a sandwich at the kitchen counter.

"Where is the poor little dear?" Louis asks the second Zayn opens the door, and he rolls his eyes.

"Nice to see you, too, Lou," he answers, and the other boy shakes his head.

"Now is not the time for formalities, where is the precious little angel you've been telling us all about?" he asks, and Zayn bites back an argument because he hasn't been telling anyone all about anything. All he's done is ask Liam to bring over some groceries and other various things so that Zayn doesn't have to leave Niall home all alone by himself. Maybe he said he was adorable while he was in the shower once –and maybe he also mentioned some things about his flawless skin and gorgeous blue eyes- but that was about it.

"He's in the kitchen," he answered, and Louis is gone, dragging the very easy going Harry Styles behind him. Liam, meanwhile, lingers. He opens his arms for a hug, and Zayn sighs and takes him up on the offer, not that he would tell anyone. "I'm no good at this, Liam," he says, vision blurring, and when did he become so affected by this? Liam hummed.

"I doubt anyone is. Does he talk about it?" Liam asked, and Zayn shudders, but he's not quite sure why.

"No, not about anything, and I don't want to ask and make him feel uncomfortable," he replies, and scrubs at his running nose with the back of his hand. "He wakes up crying, like… all the time, though," he confesses, and Liam frowns.

"I guess he's not ready yet. I wouldn't be ready either."

"Neither would I," Zayn agrees, and pulls away from his friend, trying to sober up and stuff all of his feelings back in. Zayn doesn't do this whole crying, emotional thing. That was more Louis and Harry's front. Zayn was the stoic and silent, never-know-what-he's-thinking kind of guy. "You wanna meet him?" he asks, and Liam smiles.

"Sure!" he offers. Zayn takes him to the kitchen where Louis is asking Niall what appears to be a bunch of super uncomfortable questions. He looks at Zayn gratefully when he steps up.

"Alright, lads. This is Niall. He's gonna stay with me for a little while, and you are all going to be tolerable, yeah?" he asks with a pointed look to Louis, who flushes and looks at his toes. He turns to the blonde and beams. "You think you can handle these guys?" he asks, and Niall flushes and looks to his toes, too, the smallest of grins working it's way onto his face.

"Yeah, I think so."

* * *

"Niall, you aren't going to go back to stripping, are you? You know you can stay here as long as you need, right?" Zayn asks out of the blue one day, and Niall's head whips up from where he's squinting at the newspaper, trying to make out the tiny print.

"What? How did you know about the-"

"Well first of all, it was kinda obvious from what you were wearing and things when I found you that one day, and second, I watched you pack your clothes when you came to stay with me, so I mean… I saw all the stuff you _didn't_ pack, you know?" he said quickly, and Niall buried his head in his hands.

"Yeah, I know… um… no, I don't want to do that anymore, please, but… but I think.. I think I might have to," he says, and Zayn frowns.

"No you don't, Niall. You have a million other options. And I don't… I don't think you'd make it through another rape like that, and if that's the risk your job puts you at, I don't want you doing it," Zayn explains, and it's been about a month of Niall trying to make himself useful at Zayn's flat as he tried to get back on his feet again, but they've _never_ talked about this, and Niall isn't sure if he wants to.

"We don't… we don't discuss this," he whispers, but the way Zayn's looking at him makes him clear his throat and decide to talk about this seriously. "I just… I'm a dropout, Zayn. I'm going nowhere. I have no one to support me or back me up, like… like, you know I haven't got a mam and my dad disappeared when I was two, and there's… there's no one else. I don't have anywhere else to go," he tells him with a shrug, and Zayn grabs his hand.

"You have me, Niall…" Zayn says, and there's a pause as he seems to ponder something and Niall lets him think. "What happened to your mum, Nialler?" Zayn suddenly asks, and Niall nearly chokes, trying not to cry but it's hard because Zayn's literally bringing up every awful thing in his life during one conversation.

"She died," he answers on his own time, tears streaming down his cheeks. "House fire. She… she left something on the stove. I wasn't home; I was at school. She's gone." Zayn's gaze on him softens, and before Niall realises what's happening, he's getting pulled into a hug, Zayn's arms deliciously wrapped around him, protecting him.

"Is that why you stopped going to class?" he asked, and Niall crumbles.

"I was so _sad_ ," he sobs, crying so hard it hurts and he's scared of suffocating. Zayn holds him closer, though, and traces patterns up and down Niall's back, and oddly enough, it makes him feel better.

"Niall, stripping won't make you feel less lonely."

"I know."

"It's not the only way for you to pay the bills."

"I know."

"You don't have to pay those on your own anymore, either."

"I kno- wait, what?" Niall asked, pulling away and searching Zayn's face, and the other boy bites his lip, shifting a little bit and looking up at the ceiling.

"Look, I mean… Me and the guys… we love you, you know? Like… I'm never going to get how you of all fucking people did something so… well, _looked down upon_ because, like… you're not that guy, you know? That wasn't something you chose. That was the only opportunity that presented itself to you at the time, right?" he asked, and Niall sniffed, nodding his head. Zayn sighed. "Right. You just need a little help, you know? You need someone to get you on your feet. I can do that. The boys and I… we can do that. You don't have to be alone. I haven't got much, Niall, but I've got enough for you," he promises, and Niall's crying for entirely different reasons.

"I wanna go _home_ ," he says brokenly, but after a few minutes of soaking up Zayn he starts laughing at himself a little bit. "God, who _are_ you?" he asked, and Zayn smiled.

"I'm Zayn."

* * *

Zayn likes coming home so much more with Niall there. Even if sometimes it's horribly sad, and even if the poor boy walks around looking haunted most of the time, Zayn likes how there always seems to be hands reaching out for him.

Niall always has his hands outstretched towards Zayn. He's always pulling him closer. He's always forcing his way under his arms, and making Zayn hug him around his waist, and hopping up onto his back to piggyback him as he tried to go around and do his daily routine. Niall's always under his feet, and Zayn's worried about tripping over him, but he gets that maybe Niall just needs hugs and snuggles instead of all the shitty touching he had got before.

* * *

"Zayn, the lease on my flat is up," Niall says one day as he's sorting mail, and it obviously resonates with the both of them. Niall has been here a long time. Niall has been here a _really_ long time.

There's an unspoken question with the statement: _Should I renew it because I need to go home at some point, or should I let it go because I can stay here?_

"I think that maybe you should be my roommate or something. Maybe… maybe we could both pay rent here and… and I don't know. This place is sparse. We could bring over your furniture and the rest of your stuff that isn't here and just…" Zayn trails off. "It would be fun to have a roommate," he says, and Niall nods because, yeah, that would be all right. Especially if it was Zayn with his cute little pout when Niall doesn't give him what he wants right away and his sexy scruff when he goes a day or two without shaving.

"Okay. I'm thinking about maybe getting a job at the off-license down the block," Niall says. "There was a help wanted sign on the door the other day." Zayn snorts, and pulls out two shot classes and some cheap vodka that might as well be paint-stripper from the cupboard beneath the sink.

"Are you even old enough to sell alcohol?" he questions, pouring two shots and sliding one over to Niall despite his implications, and Niall pouts.

"I'm old enough for plenty of things," he replies, and raises his class. "What's this for?" he asks, and Zayn clinks their shots together.

"This is for a celebration. To new roommates," he toasts, and Niall grins wider than he normally allows himself.

"To new roommates."

* * *

"Waddya think 'bout _soul mates_ , Liam?" Zayn asks one night while they're all drunk in what is now his and Niall's flat. He's just talking to his best friend at the table for the moment, but his eyes are trained on Niall as the boy plays twister incredibly hilariously with a very pissed Harry and Louis trying their best to knot themselves up with him. Liam's sober and staring at him in a way Zayn isn't sure he likes.

"Niall is very breakable, Zayn," he says in his warning voice, and Zayn rolls his eyes, and points at Liam like Louis does at everything when he's smashed like this.

"He's a rape victim," he says pointedly, and Liam shakes his head a bit.

"Exactly. I believe in soul mates, Zayn, but I don't think anyone who was raped would tell you the same," he says, and Zayn pouts, disheartened.

"Why don't you believe in love, Liam? Don't you think things happen for a reason? I think they happen for a reason," he says. "Like… Like, Niall and I live together, but we don't _live_ together. What does that even mean? I think we should kiss," he says, and that doesn't sound the way he means it, but he's drunk, so of course it doesn't. Nothing sounds right when you're plastered. Liam runs his hands through his hair.

"I don't think Niall is very interesting in kissing, Zayn," he replied, and he was probably right, but Zayn doesn't _like_ that he's right. He calls out to Niall.

"Niall! Are you interested in kissing?" he yells into the other boy, and Niall laughs –one of the greatest sounds in the world if you asked Zayn and something he's been hearing more of lately- and falls flat on his face.

"Kissing his for squares!" he responds, and Harry howls.

"Yes! For squares!" he agrees, and Liam just shakes his head, while Zayn's inebriated heart cries a little bit to itself.

"They're drunk out of their brains, that lot," Liam says, a bit of a grin pulling on his lips, and he nudges Zayn a bit with his elbow. "You know what? Let's put a pin in this one, yeah? We can talk about it when you aren't swaying in your seat," he promised, and Zayn crossed his arms.

"I am not swaying in my seat," he argues, but he is, and it's not long until he passes out and wakes up without a lick of a memory from the night before.

* * *

The thing is, Niall looks like a rape victim. He's skinny because he doesn't eat enough, and he has dark circles beneath his eyes because he doesn't sleep enough. He looks guilty and scared, and Zayn just wants to get in his head, but at the same time he doesn't have to because he's caught enough of what Niall screams when he's in the middle of a nightmare to know what happened.

(In Zayn's humble opinion, Niall is in no way a slut, and it is obvious that he didn't want what he got, and he hopes they catch this asshole because he deserves hell and more.)

It's because of all this, though, that Zayn feels a little sick. Like… shit, who the fuck gets a crush on someone who asks you not to look at them? Niall is _always_ telling him not to look at him. That's messed up. Niall is messed up.

Zayn is messed up for liking him so much.

But come _on_. They're always together. Niall's brought his tiny twin bed from his old place and put it in Zayn's room. They share a bathroom and a living space and a _life_. They share everything, actually, and not only that, but beneath the too thin and the exhaustion, Niall is _cute_. Cute as a button.

Zayn likes the way his hair looks when he first wakes up, and he likes how he's so small that he can fit his head perfectly just under Zayn's chin if he wants him too. He likes being able to encompass Niall. He like the way Niall holds back when Zayn gives him a hug, and he loves how Niall always puts mustard on both sides of the sandwich he's making.

He likes how Niall's nose wrinkles when he pulls out a Sharpie. He likes how he can't ever find a pair of socks because Niall borrows them so often. He likes how Niall folds underwear into quarters instead of halves, and he thinks it's adorable how he scoops ice cream with a little spoon instead of a big one or an ice cream scoop.

There are so many things Zayn sees in Niall that he can't help but like, but it would be selfish and stupid of Zayn to feel that way. Not when Niall feels the way he does.

But he can't help but wonder if Niall would constantly reach for any roommate he had or if maybe he was a special case.

* * *

Zayn thinks he's the only one thinking about it, but as is usually the case, Niall surprises him. "We're living together," he says one day as Zayn is brushing his teeth and Zayn nearly chokes on his toothpaste.

"Well, I mean… we're both paying rent, but it's not like we're sleeping in the same bed," he says, trying to play off his near death experience with a laugh, and Niall leans on the doorframe, looking at him in the mirror extremely closely, and Zayn doesn't know if he wants more or less of this.

"Do you want us to be sleeping in the same bed?" he asks, and Zayn's not quite sure how to answer. This feels like a test, and he doesn't like it because he doesn't think he can pass.

"I want whatever you want," he says, and Niall hums.

"I cry in my sleep now," he responds, and after that uncommitted comment, he leaves the bathroom and Zayn spits, rinsing his mouth and hoping he didn't say the wrong thing.

* * *

Niall half feels like he's floating and half feels like he's sinking. He's bobbing up and down, and he can't seem to catch a breath. He almost wishes Zayn had let him bleed out in that alley because he can't figure out what he wants to do with himself.

One the one hand, he is terrified. He's so scared that someone is going to touch him; he's drowning and it sucks.

On the other hand, Niall isn't scared of Zayn at all. Zayn has held him after too many nightmares, listened to too many of his screams, done too much for him for Niall to distrust him in even the slightest.

And Niall is at this weird point in his life where he's starting to think about normal things again. Like… he used to think about buying new leather leggings, and now he's thinking about buying him and Zayn a better bedspread.

It's hard. It's so hard; Niall's shed the tears to prove it. He feels like his heart is compressing, and sometimes it hurts to breathe, and he doesn't get how he's supposed to carry himself, especially because his whole identity has been stripped now that he's started working at the chemist (because he is, in fact, too young to sell alcohol), and he's just so lost.

Except at the same time, he's finding his place in Zayn. Zayn's always right behind him guiding the way, and it's weird, and crazy, and Niall doesn't want anyone to touch him, he _so_ doesn't want anyone to touch him. Just thinking about kissing Zayn leaves him crying in fear, not that the concept of mutual kissing with the guy who saves him sounds all that bad.

Niall just wants someone to love him. To _really_ love him.

So maybe Zayn, maybe Zayn, we'll see, we'll see.

* * *

Niall wakes up _screaming_ and Zayn is out of his bed in a heartbeat. He doesn't even know how he _got there_ , but he's sitting on the edge of the smaller boy's mattress and pinning his arms down so he would stop scratching as his skin, red marks littering his arms, stomach, and thighs from night and nights of tearing himself apart.

"Shhh, baby, it's okay, it's _okay_ , you're with me, remember? It's Zayn, your with Zayn, babes. Just wake up, you're fine," he says under Niall's screaming, and it's terrifying to listen to because Niall sounds like he's in so much _pain_. "Come on, NiNi, just open your eyes for me, okay? It's just Zayn, I'm just Zayn," he says, and a shuddering sob erupts from Niall as the younger boy seems to wake up enough to realise where he is, and he rolls away from Zayn, hugging his stomach. Zayn lets him go.

"Don't look at me, don't look at me, don't touch me, don't look at me," Niall cries, still yelling a little bit, and Zayn's heart breaks. He hates this part. It's so hard to calm a person down when you can't touch them or look at them, but Zayn doesn't want to break any boundaries. He lays down next to Niall like usual, listening to him sob his heart out, choking on his tears every so often.

"Niall, I wanna hold your hand, okay?" Zayn asks, and Niall doesn't break his crying, but he also doesn't tell him no, so Zayn laces their fingers together and Niall doesn't pull away. Zayn bites his lip. "Niall, I'm going to run my fingers through your hair," he tells him, and Niall doesn't scream or say anything again, so he ends up carding through the boy's bangs and bringing their faces so close together that Zayn's nose is very nearly touching Niall's cheek.

He can feel the heat from the younger boy, he's so very near to him, but they're not touching. Not yet, anyway, it's only a matter of time before Niall's reaching out for him again. Zayn doesn't quite know all he did to make it happen, but Niall trusts him, and he's so grateful for it.

Normally they don't talk about the dream, but tonight feels different.

"You didn't want it," he assures him, and Niall stiffens for a minute before rolling into Zayn, crying into his chest. Zayn keeps running his fingers through his hair. "You didn't see another way out, sweetie, and you were so _sad_. You told me; you were so _sad_ , and you took the first offer someone put out on the table for you. You're not a slut, Niall, you don't like being looked at. You don't want me to look at you. You don't want anyone to look at you or to touch you; you just needed someone to give you a place. And you're not in that place anymore. You have a place here with me. You didn't want it, it's not your fault, and it's not gonna happen again," he says, and Niall is shaking. The front of Zayn's shirt is soaked.

"Okay," Niall hiccups, whole body wracking, and Zayn dares a kiss into his hair, tracing the same old patterns up and down his back.

"I'm going to take care of you, Niall. You're going to forget it. It's going to shock you how much you forget it," Zayn quotes Mad Men because it fits, and Niall's not going to know where he stole it from. Niall smiles through his tears.

"Who are you? Donald Draper?" he asks, catching his reference, and Zayn thinks back and remembers that they watched through that series together. Whoops.

"I'm Zayn," he answered with a smile.

* * *

Niall says he feels safer with Zayn close to him, especially when he's sleeping, so they end up sharing a bed. So now they're living together and sleeping together, but they're not _sleeping_ together, and this whole situation doesn't seem to stop becoming more and more confusing.

They're eating dinner at Liam's place, and Zayn and Niall are getting to that point where there's no separating their behaviours, so Niall is in Zayn's lap and Zayn has an arm wrapped tightly around his waist while they try to eat spaghetti of all things, so it's a bit of a messy affair. And maybe they're sharing forks and eating from the same plate, and his friends are giving them some really weird looks.

"Liam, where's the bathroom?" Niall asks after they're done, disentangling himself from Zayn and looking at the older boy expectedly. Liam clears his throat and points down the hall.

"First door on your right," he says. Niall goes, and Liam glares at Zayn. "You are fire playing with ice. One of you is going to get smothered," he warns, and Louis tugs at his collar.

"Are you two like a thing?" he asks, confused by Liam's odd comment and the way Zayn and Niall might have been necking at the table all evening. Zayn scoots his plate away and puts his head down in his arms, understanding why Niall always wants people to stop looking at him.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I'm pretty sure we're not, but I'm like…"

"You're a completely different Zayn with him," Harry fills in, earning looks for Louis and Liam. "What? If Perrie was still with Zayn she'd be sitting on the other side of the table, and they wouldn't have said a word to each other all evening," he said, and Louis laughed.

"Oh, God, she would! You sure know how to treat a lady, Zayn," he teased, but Zayn just groaned at himself and the world because Niall was so different and made him so happy, even if he should be making him sad. Liam frowned.

"Just take it easy, Zayn. Don't mess him up anymore than he already is, yeah?" Liam asks, and Zayn would say something, but Niall walks back into the room. There's a certain grace to his step that keeps Zayn in awe of Niall and a bit haunted considering Niall _was_ a dancer after all.

"What'd I miss?" he asks, taking his seat in Zayn's lap, and Zayn makes a show of over exaggeratedly kissing his cheek.

"Absolutely nothing."

* * *

"Niall, babe, do I remember you wearing my plaid button-up the other day? The blue one that is actually Liam's?" he calls through the tiny flat, frantically searching through his clean laundry for something suitable for a job interview. Niall walks into the room, leaning on the doorframe.

"Only for like a half second. I was drowning in it and the sleeves were too long. It's right on the bed with the pants we picked out, remember?" he asks, nodding his head toward the clothes, and Zayn could kick himself, they were right there the whole time. Niall smiles at him and comes in the room further to wrap him up in a big hug. "You're gonna do great, babe. You've got an amazing collection of work to show, and your own gun, and anyone would want you working in their shop. You've done, like… a million tattoos," he says, and Zayn relaxes.

"I really need to stop stressing. Thanks babe," he says, kissing Niall on the lips, and-

Holy _shit_.

Niall quickly tears away. "Okay, okay. Okay, no problem, but you know? You know, you should get ready. You should get ready or you'll be late, okay? Okay, and… and I have checkout duty today, so I'm just… I'm gonna go, I'm gonna go," Niall says, tugging on his coat and shoes and grabbing his key.

"Niall, wait, your shift doesn't start for-" the front door slams, "-three hours," he finishes to an empty house. He pulls his own clothes on, but on the inside he's kicking himself because how could anyone be so dumb?

It's just… they were being so domestic, and Niall was being so perfect, and the blonde had recently been starting to fill out a bit again and sleeping more, and things were getting so much better, and what with this potential new job at a better parlour and Niall getting promoted from shelf stacker to check out boy at the chemist, things were starting to look up and Zayn was thinking about _relationships_ a lot. He had been thinking about how they might be starting to seem possible.

He was so dumb.

They definitely didn't seem possible now.

He throws his hair wax against the wall of the bathroom in frustration, and it comes back and hits him straight in the forehead, a purpling bruise instantly emerging at his hairline. Shit.

Zayn has a bad feeling about this interview, especially because he leaves the house without his portfolio and by the time he's gone back to get it, he's running late, and his head is filled with thoughts and worries about Niall.

* * *

Niall can't stop scrubbing at his lips. He probably looks like a crazy person, checking out items while rubbing at his mouth like a psycho.

Weirdly enough, he feels too covered and too bare at the same time. Where's his lipstick? Where's the glitter on his cheeks and mascara on his lashes? Why is he wearing so many clothes? No one's going to pay him if he wears so many clothes.

He doesn't know why he does it, but Niall slowly takes off his clothes more and more with each customer, one button at a time, until he's standing in just his underwear, the waistband swung low around his hips and chest out confidently.

His manager throws a fit and slaps him on the head, asking what kind of a business he thinks he's running, and Niall starts crying, so his boss doesn't fire him, just sends him home and tells him to come in wearing something a little more conservative when he comes back tomorrow and offers to pay him for the hours of work he's going to miss out on by leaving early.

Niall keeps scrubbing at his lips.

He feels crazy, absolutely insane, and when he gets home and realises that Zayn isn't back yet even if it's been six hours since his interview was supposed to have started, he throws himself down on the couch he used to sleep on and bawls his eyes out for a solid twenty minutes without ever really knowing why.

He's still crying as he gets up. _Why is he up?_ He goes to the bathroom and sobs while he shaves his legs and arms (something he hasn't done in ages, he doesn't even know why he has the razor still). He finds his way into the bedroom and searches through his dresser, but he isn't sure why, he seems to be unsure of everything, until he finds a tiny black dress that must have belonged to a _very_ provocative ballerina in a former life. He puts it on. He feels weird. He feels like he used to.

A pair of shocking red heels and some matching leather gloves, and Niall's in the bathroom, putting on red lipstick and glitter on his cheekbones before hooking a crimson belt around his middle to show the small of his waist.

He feels like a whore.

Niall _is_ a whore.

He waits for Zayn to come home, dressed like this for seemingly no reason other than the fact that he's crazy and should be put to sleep or something.

* * *

"I've been waiting for you," is the first thing Zayn hears as he steps into the flat after a full day of griping to Liam about how much of a failure he is. He doesn't get a chance to see Niall before the other boy has hooked onto him and begins sucking at the corner of his jaw.

Zayn's surprised to say the least, but not nearly as surprised as he is when Niall leads his hands lower on him, and he realises he's touching Niall's bare bottom and Niall's shoulders are naked against his arms. Zayn pulls away as fast as Niall did earlier and swears.

"The fuck are you _wearing_ , Nialler?" he asks, and it comes out a little more intensely than he wants it to, but the innocent little blonde is wearing this tiny, strapless dress kind of deal, and Zayn's seen Niall in tiny shorts and a tight leather t-shirt, but he's _never_ see him in something like this, and it's scary.

"Just a little something for you," Niall giggles, reattaching to him, but Zayn pushes him off because, _no_ , he doesn't _want_ that. Or at least, not like this.

"It's not for me. Take it off," he demands and Niall smirks as he undoes the front strings on the corset of the dress, and Zayn rubs his temples. "No, no, not like that, ugh, stop, here," he says, handing Niall one of his big leather coats from the rack by the door, and Niall holds it in his hands for a second before Zayn ends up wrapping him up in it and zippering the thing up to the blonde's neck. It's short, but not as short as the dress was. Zayn takes Niall into the kitchen and wets a paper towel, working on removing the make up from his face because he can't look at Niall like this. "What were you even thinking?"

"I just want to make you happy," Niall says automatically, and Zayn shivers, biting his lip as he sweeps as much glitter as he can from the younger boy's cheeks. Shit, the stuff is everywhere.

"Niall, that kind of shit isn't going to make me happy," he says, and the way Niall looks at him is heart breaking, and Zayn backtracks. "No, wait, look, that's not what I meant. I mean… obviously I like you, Niall, but this… What's your name when you're like this?"

"I'm Blondie!" Niall answers with a smile, reaching forward to try to kiss Zayn a little more, kicking his feet like he's running to him, and Zayn pushes him against the back of the chair.

"No, no. No. Stop that. I don't want to kiss you when you're Blondie. I don't like Blondie. I like Niall. Where's Niall?" he asked, stripping layers of lipstick off of Niall's lips, as the younger boy pouts.

"Blondie's supposed to be the one who does all that kinda stuff. Blondie's the one who does all the kissing and dancing," he says, and Zayn frowns.

"But Blondie sucks, bring me Niall, I want Niall. Niall is cute and nice, and he's snuggly, and he likes wearing my sweatshirts and hiding his head underneath the covers. I want him. I want Niall," he promises, and the other boy starts sobbing, and Zayn remembers the day where he woke up in the hospital room by throwing up all over the floor, and he remembers being told not to look at him, and Niall's outstretched hands, and he pulls Niall close.

"People do _bad things_ to Niall," the blonde weeps and Zayn shushes him, tangling his fingers in the younger boy's hair.

"I'm never going to do bad things to Niall," he promises, and the boy shudders.

"But I suck. I'm easy, I'm poor, I'm dumb, I'm useless, I'm so… I'm nothing, no one's ever going to treat me right, I've done too many bad things," he weeps and Zayn shakes his head, wrapping him up a little tighter.

"I'm going to treat you right. You're perfect," he promises, and Niall goes weak against him, drowning the front of Zayn's t-shirt in tears.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks after weeping for a while and mindlessly clutching at Zayn's chest with jacket encased hands. "Can… can Niall kiss you? Is that okay?" he questioned, and Zayn nodded.

"Of course that would be okay. I love you, Niall. I love you so much. All the time, I'm just… I'm just in love with you, you know?" he asked, and Niall kissed his lips, and Zayn's happy because it's obvious that Niall hasn't much practice with such affairs, meaning that Niall has not kissed as many boys as that display led him to believe for a minute.

"I love you, too," he says, breaking away incredibly fast, and Zayn smiles. "And, ugh, you're such a good kisser. Who even _are_ you?" he asked, and Zayn can't help but laugh.

"I'm Zayn," he replies, "You really need to stop forgetting that." Niall laughs harder than he should because Niall always laughs harder than he should, and Zayn _loves_ that about him. Niall calms down and gets up.

"I'm going to go put on real clothes, and then maybe telly and Chinese?" Zayn nodded.

"Of course, baby. I'm only going to give you what you want, yeah?" he asks, and it's a loaded question, they both know it.

"Yeah," Niall answers, and Zayn thinks they can make this work.

They can definitely make this work.


End file.
